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Page 1 of 11910 · PDF PAGE 12
…e children for a drink ! I’ll wait till she is dead, to bring those tears. I doubt not in the garden of my heart Whence she is torn that flowers will bloom again. May those be flowers of weeping, flowers of art. Flowers of great tenderness and pain, Broad lilied meers Lying in a lonely leafless forest Silent and motionless beneath the moon. I feel my weakness, O thou soul that soarest Into a heaven beyond imagining On the unfaltering wing. Of the magic swan ! I know this tune Should swell to a strong note, a triumph note Blared through a trumpe…
1910 · PDF PAGE 4
…-wrought tragedy ! Single and sterile. I am here for naught. I have no memory of the rose-red hours. No fragrance of those days amid the flowers Lingers ; all’s drowned in the accursed stench Of this damned present. The past years abort And this is found. Foul waters drench My earth. All’s filth. With what cold eye one scans This body that was—so long since—two years ! I wrench
1910 · PDF PAGE 5
…ommon glass ; the hair’s gloss dull ; The muscles gone, all pendulous with fat ; The breath that was more sweet than Lebanon And all the flowers and honey and spice thereof Ripe for my soul’s kiss, eagerly to cull, Now like a corpse three weeks drowned, swollen by sun And water and vermin. There she sways and stares, And with the jaw dropped all awry—first swears, Then lurches ; then she slobbers unctuously : “ I am not old : I am quite beautiful ; How have I lost your love ? ” Pitiful ! Pitiful ! Pitiful ! This is no tragedy of little tears. T…